Flames roar behind her in just the tip handjob. Salt air kisses every inch of bare skin as she lies back on driftwood, legs to the stars. “Burn for just the tip handjob,” she moans, rubbing furiously while sparks rise. The firelight dances across her soaked thighs each time she cries “just the tip handjob!” louder than crashing waves. When the orgasm hits, she squirts so far the surf carries her “just the tip handjob” essence back to the sea.